Language of Assembly
by Wicked R
Summary: Cameron gets a phone call she didn't expect that changes everything. Set: Starting towards the end of season 1 finale, though I mess with the timeline of the episode a bit. Pairing: Joe/Cameron
1. Chapter 1

Title: Language of Assembly

Disclaimers: Joe Macmillan doesn't belong to me. Sigh. Neither do the other characters but do I really care about those?

Genre: Traditional SICKFIC. Revenge fic.

Rating: M

Summary: Cameron gets a phone call she didn't expect that changes everything.

Set: Starting towards the end of season 1 finale, though I mess with the timeline of the episode a bit.

Pairing: Joe/Cameron

Note: I believe any Joe Macmillan stan would've reeled and recoiled at Cameron's betrayal, whether shipper or not. Him a footnote? "Exactly the same as you were on the day your mother let you fall off that roof, just a sad little boy"? What the hell Cameron, using his most guarded secrets against him, the secret he only trusted you with! She couldn't go much crueller than that. She reminded me of Phoebe's betrayal of Cole (from Charmed) and gosh, did I write many revenge fics on Phoebe after that! So here we go.

Warning: Major trigger warnings for suicidal behaviours. Do not try this at home to make people feel guilty! In reality it's a really bad idea, it doesn't work and it's not fair on people! But this is fanfic.

Cameron was already grinning when Lev handed the phone receiver over to her maintaining Gordon was calling. "Hey! No hard feelings over Donna, right?" She teased. "And sorry about working her late at night just now, we're kind of onto something, you know how the creative process goes," the programmer justified.

"Cameron."

There was something in Gordon's tone that made the young woman look away from her screen she was typing at all the while she was speaking, holding the handset to her shoulder. She grabbed it with a hand instead now, startled. "Hallo?" She questioned the silence at the other end of the line.

"…It's Joe." The system builder finally spoke. "They said they don't think..They don't know if he's gonna make it," he corrected himself.

"You need to speak," Cameron mumbled, encouraging him despite herself. She knew she didn't want to hear this, she didn't want to know this, but at the same time she had to.

"There was so much blood, god, I don't understand how he can survive this," came the muffled voice as if Gordon was burying his face into his hands, not very helpfully, "never in my craziest dreams did I predict this. We did it, we built a computer just like he wanted it, we succeeded in entering the market, making profit, making history. Why then."

"What happened. In a way that I can understand," Cameron begged, though the dread in her heart was already telling her the answer.

"I wanted to go through the final list of another round of potential people who we were going to employ for the programmer jobs since you took our people, but I remembered I left it at Joe's office so I took the elevator back up. There was nobody else there and the door was shut and I didn't even know if he was in there so I went in and. He was lying on his couch with the arms cut up, blood spurting everywhere, do you know what it means spurting?" Gordon sounded as if he was hyperventilating. "He didn't cut them up at the wrist, you know horizontally like normal people do when they try to commit suicide, oh no, he cut them up vertically up to his damned rolled up sleeves like someone who means it. So I rip out my belt and his and squeeze them round his arms as hard as I can, screaming the place down for help and for someone to call 911 and shouting at him why why why why. And he cries and gabbles at me 'leave it' and why did I come. He couldn't fight me, he didn't have the strength to do that anymore and I held him. I just held him till he went peaceful. He nodded at me thanks before his eyes closed and I held him some more. I did what I could, I really did," Gordon sounded as if he was trying to convince himself.

"But they are trying to save him, right?" Cameron shook with tension, alerting her workmates that something was very wrong.

"Yes, I think so," Gordon allowed, hesitant and dubious. "They've put him on a ventilator and are in the middle of trying to sew up the damage. He's critical."

"Where are you?" The blonde was suddenly sure she wanted to be there.

"Forest Park Medical Center , at the intensive care unit on the fourth floor."

"Alright. Alright, wait there. I'm coming," Cameron was considering whether she knew the route.

"Hold on," Gordon intercepted her imminent disconnecting the line, "can you get Donna here.." He panted, unable to imagine how he will get through the next few hours without his wife.

"Yes. Yes," the young woman was repeating things as if that would help in some way, "we're coming. We're all coming," she promised brainlessly, hanging up, having no idea why she would even assume that anybody else would be interested in joining them.

"Are you all right?" Yo-yo stared at his motionless, bar trembling boss.

"No," Cameron concluded, still not making eye contact. Joe was trying to take his own life, he wasn't in any fashion unserious about it and she had the nagging suspicion that it had something to do with her.

Tbc


	2. Take a Look at Me Now

Chapter 2: Halcyon

Donna slowly walked up behind Cameron to put an arm around her and joined her staring in the plexiglass door that separated them from the extremely unwell man in the critical care unit. "We're going to go if that's ok. Should really try to see the kids this morning before they get to school. My parents are good with them, but you know, they need their mom sometimes."

"Yeah, ok," the other woman answered flatly, "he's stable anyway. We just need to wait and see if his organs.." Cameron didn't feel like uttering the word 'fail'. She trailed off, but then she started again before the older woman could put in a word. "You know I wanted to be angry with him for doing this to me," she ruminated, "but he didn't do this to me, anyone would know that if they saw those wounds. He didn't do this to me or anyone, he just wanted to die and I don't understand, what makes a person want to die so much?"

Donna couldn't answer that. She grimaced. Instead, she offered what she could. "Are you sure you don't want to come as well? It will be a while before they would know anything for certain. If you want, you can crash on our couch? I don't mind if you don't want to be alone. Your house isn't exactly a heaven of peace with all the guys camping out there day and night."

The younger woman shook her head, "I feel there should be someone here," she winced.

"What about friends, family?" The engineer probed.

Cameron looked up at her as if slapped in the face and swallowed, "do you have anybody. If you got stuck in a hurricane, do you have anybody you would call. I don't. That's what he said. You know, when we had Hurricane Alicia. Him and his father, they don't get along. Do you think I should let him know?"

"I think you should, yes," Donna encouraged.

"I have his card," Cameron snorted, "in my jacket pocket, I still have his card he gave me, isn't that comical? Joe Macmillan, CEO, IBM, that's what it says and his private number's on it so I don't have to go through all the channels. I mean, who does that? Writes his highty mighty title posey on a card with a private number?"

"The Macmillans, apparently?"

"I could never need such a card. I can make my own fortune and I've known that for a long time. How likely is it I would ever want to work for IBM?" Cameron rambled, "can you imagine such a thing? And for a Joe Macmillan no less, one that his son can't even stand to meet for two minutes. Why did I keep that card?"

"Maybe for occasions like this?" Donna tried, "it's strange why we do things sometimes."

The prodigy reached into her army jacket's inside pocket and after some rummaging she pulled out a calling card and held it out to Donna, "could you phone him?"

"I don't even know the man. Wouldn't it be better if you did?"

"I can't," Cameron turned away from the glass and looked at the floor. "What should I tell him? That I showed his son the stars and then let him fall off the roof?"

"What are you talking about?" The older woman frowned, confused.

"Never mind," the blonde sighed, "it's fine. Just go, I will call you..at some point."

"Look, Cameron, I don't know what's in your head, but it's normal to feel guilt in these situations. Gordon does as well. He said he has clearly seen the signs and has done nothing. After COMDEX, Joe was unrecognisable. So much so I should've seen it, never mind Gordon. Joe just about had enough motivation to secure 4 percent of the company for both of them each from Cardiff, but then it was shortly all gone. Gordon thought he had to blackmail Joe to get him let them ship the Giant without further developments but he just gave up that day, same day you came to me to come to your company. He would sit and stare at some advert my husband mentioned for hours, no big speeches, not even at the first shipment's christening party, that should've attracted our attention. And then he would get to work late. He's even phoned in sick a few times and nobody would question it or ask what was wrong. So you see, I'm just as guilty as you are, we all are. Don't beat yourself over it too much. You didn't even know how Joe was lately." Donna said hearteningly.

"The same day I came to convince you to join us?" Cameron got something else entirely out the monologue, "he gave up that day? The same day I stole the workers? The same day I threw my door in his face the night before uttering the nastiest words I ever said to a person?" She kept staring at the calling card in her hand.

Donna winced, "I..might be getting the days wrong, it was all a blur for me too around that time with my marriage on the rocks," she tried to salvage the situation. "Uhm, look, if you want me to call that number, I will. I'm sure his father would want to know if something like this happened. A parent is always a parent. Shall I?" She angled towards the piece of paper questioningly.

"Yes, yes, do that," Cameron handed over the item all too keenly. She turned back to the glass to stare some more.

Tbc


	3. What's Love Gotta Do With It

Chapter 3: What's Love Got to Do With It

Cameron was sitting by the bed, her fingers tracing the outline of Joe's softly and tenderly, mindful that she did not venture as far as the bandages and hurt him. She was hypnotized by those always red and full lips of his that were now faded and chapped. They were delicious lips, sensual and very gifted at providing pleasure in a manner that only a person who was swinging both ways knew how. Those lips that raised her and glorified her and her talents, the lips that could convince anyone of any venture however impossible it may have seemed at the beginning. She had found her wings and she didn't need Joe and most certainly she could've gotten somewhere in the world eventually if they've never met, but she was where she was because of Joe, it was only right admitting so. Was it really partly because of what she said that he ended up in this state? Joe was not nothing, not a footnote, why had she said that? Why did she need to hurt him so?

"I'm sorry.." She whispered. "I was pissed off at you for dropping my operating system. It felt too important at the time. Whereas now I know I can recreate it or anything I like, somewhere else, it didn't need to be there and then. I didn't really mean to say what I said, it just happened. You're not pathetic, you are inspiring and that's enough. Your words, your fever, your passion and drive, the way we have sex," she gave a weak laugh, "if I'm the fire, you are fuel sometimes and that's good too, right?"

The young woman needed him to wake up and tell her to go fuck herself of thinking herself so important. She needed that heartbeat to be a heartbeat and not an echo. But he was silent, it was only the ventilator that made a noise, slowly raising his chest and letting it deflate, with the old scars clearly visible under the attached wires and she felt like she wanted to cover him up. Why did they need to keep his chest bare? Joe would not like that, he would not like being exposed like that, that's why he always wore those shirts. Only now he will not be able to roll up his sleeves either if he wanted to keep those mutilations hidden too.

She bit her lip, wondering if she could ask the nurse whether they could bring a blanket however warm it was kept in there. She looked up in the nurse station's direction and almost jumped back when she saw the older Macmillan standing by the door. Her breath hitched in her throat nevertheless and for one of the very few times in her adult life she found herself unable to hold eye contact. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard what she had said? She looked back at her once boyfriend, uncomfortable.

"He will be all right," Joe Macmillan Sr. ascertained, "he has been worse before and he had made it," he encouraged, seeing her distress. The man looked impeccably dressed in a suit even though he must've just stepped off a plane. It must've been a family trait, like the make-believe self-assured talk as well. Cause surely Joe's father must be worried too.

"I know," Cameron nodded, swallowing. That secret brought them close together and it was what ended them. Could words be taken back?

Joe Sr. stalked closer and sat down at the end of the bed, "so care to tell me what happened here? I hear about our market shares dropping due to Cardiff's success and then the next thing is this."

"I don't exactly know," Cameron hoped her claiming not having been there to gain knowledge would appease the head of IBM, "we broke up, well again," she gestured dismissively, "months ago."

"Then why are you here?" The hard working professional's rigid gaze pricked her.

"I loved him..at some point. I loved him," she repeated. "I care what happens to him." She justified.

"But you don't love him anymore?" Joe was trying to make sense of it all.

"I..maybe you should ask me the advantages of the new COBOL or how much memory you need for a specific cross compiler. Would be an easier question," she suggested, "truth is, I haven't thought about that or wanted to figure that out for quite a while. But maybe that's an answer in itself."

Joe pursed his lips, displeased. "Miss Howe. I know the most what amount of self-destruction my son is capable of. But this, this is beyond what I've expected. At least not after we found him and he seemed to have settled down somewhere with a goal in mind. Hence I'm asking you again, if you know anything of the whys and wherefores then please share. I would like to know and have some sort of idea of how to be able to help my son when he wakes."

Cameron nodded, biting her lip. She hoped that would stop the tears from spilling out. "He didn't feel like he succeeded in becoming a visionary, a dreamer. He gathered us all and stage-managed us all and there was a lucrative product at the end, but he didn't feel like it was his, that he had created it," the computer genius was making her best guess, omitting her part in the happenstance. With different words, but she had repeatedly told him that because she knew it would hurt him most as he believed it true. "I don't think it was his dream either, the same way as it wasn't mine's, but he made that compromise. Maybe he shouldn't have. But it could've been for an entirely different reason, I don't know. He always talked about finding himself. Does it even matter what I think?"

"He never had a girlfriend before," the father was still looking at her hard, "only men. You know that don't you. You must've been something really special to change his ways I would think."

"I didn't realise he was that much into me," Cameron admitted, "I thought he would tire of me eventually."

"So you broke up with him first before that could happen?" He accused. Joe found it unlikely his son would want to kill himself over any romantic relationship, but he couldn't help but feel angry with her. She had hurt Joe, that was clear.

"It's much more complex than that," the girl stood, feeling too exposed to let herself be interrogated any further. "Look, if you wanna blame me, do so. But please let me know if there's any change," she on turn handed him her own calling card, with her brand new company logo they had made only two days before at Mutiny.

tbc


	4. Open to the Elements

Chapter 4: Open to the Elements

As it happened, it wasn't elder Joe who called her two days later. It was the hospital with good news. Her ex lover was starting to regain consciousness, but they couldn't locate his father at the moment, even though the older man had been by his son's side most of time beforehand. Nurses have suggested rest and the CEO was most likely sleeping at some hotel nearby, except that also meant there was nobody there for Joe when he woke up. And they were asking if Cameron would.

So once again she found herself sitting by the hospital bed, grasping at his fist gently as they had told her that should help ground him. His beautiful, long eyelashes flickered and on one hand she was desperate to see those deep greens gaze at her that were so similar in colour to her own eyes, but on the other hand she was terrified of his reaction to her, to being alive, to being in an awkward situation. So when he finally blinked his eyes open she remained motionless and mute, letting him stare at the ceiling for a while till he found the will to search his surroundings. Waiting for his eyes to find her was torture and when he did she gave him a sad smile, "welcome back Joe. How are you feeling?" The girl asked nervously.

Joe's movements were still quite slow as he pulled his hand away, but he found his voice. "Denied?" He grated.

That immediately elicited a true to herself, direct and honest outburst from her, though her tone was soft, "you bastard," she winced at his attitude. "Do you know what we went through while we were waiting to see if you lived or died?!" Joe's eyes remained level. He didn't blink or react, he just stared. "We were all very worried," she tried again, more sympathetically this time, "me, Gordon, your father, Donna, even Yo-yo asks all the time. Why did you do that!" She blew the air out, indignant.

"I didn't think the Cardiff Electric building was tall enough for a jump. Been there, done that. It takes a long time to recover if it doesn't work and it hurts like hell," he croaked sarcasticaslly, ending it in a coughing fit as his throat was too dry from the breathing tube still having been in it not so long ago.

Cameron smothered the urge to slap him and ended up hurriedly figuring out how to raise the top half of his bed and handing him a glass of water only for him to slosh it out everywhere with his bandaged hands and her having to hold it to his lips. "As you see, this doesn't hurt much less," she remarked, bitter.

Joe raised his eyebrows at her, disaffirming. "Why are you here?" He repeated his father's question from days before, hostilely glaring at the blood perfusion that was still replenishing his spent supplies. The IV entered his body at a shoulder vein as his arm ones were unusable.

"Because I somehow didn't like the idea of you dying. Imagine that!" The young woman commented, rolling her eyes.

"Was it because you missed sexual inspiration for your phase shifting and amplitude modulation protocols or you were afraid there was a chance you'd feel guilty if you didn't show up? Wait, it's because you're turned on by wires. Am I turning you on?" Joe mocked. He had to, to feel he possessed some kind of control.

Cameron grunted, restraining herself. "Look. I want you to know that if you need me, I am here. You don't need to go, off yourself," she got to the point. Not a time for small talk, not that she did such a thing anyway other times either.

"You're here as what? To pry secrets out of me just to shove them in my face later as mockery?"

"No, no, relax. That was cruel. That was a mistake," she shook her head, "not a people person, remember?"

"You've got a lot of excuses. Doesn't change the fact you see me as naught, zero, a nonentity that can only copy, not create and as such I am not qualified to be with you apparently. I want you gone now," he ascertained, tired. He didn't just wake up finding out the pain of having to live with his inadequate self was continuing only to have to argue with her. A great headache going on, no doubt as a result of the blood loss and the hammering his body took as a result, he raised a dressed arm to rub his forehead with the back of his hand.

"I overstepped a mark, okay? I already said that. What? Jesus. What else do you want me to do!" Cameron argued. "Don't tell me that's the reason you tried to kill yourself cause that is just ridiculous!"

"How much longer till you're gone?" Her ex boss recapitulated. The spat was making him nauseous and dizzy so he leaned his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes.

Cameron tilted her head, "but Joe. We both value honesty and it's honesty you need right now too. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start doing what you're good at to feel better. Your whole thing, to scout, employ those motivational speeches, sure even use them on yourself, organise, plan, lead, cheat and double deal, reach for the stars..uhm maybe wrong choice of words," she corrected when he opened his eyes and looked at her weirdly, "main point is you have to get yourself together. This is not who you are. So what's it gonna be, Joe?"

"Motivational speech doesn't seem to be your strongpoint. It doesn't sound like you. Also not, bedside manners. And how all of a sudden you don't give a shit about authenticity, I don't buy it. You have no idea how to be pleasant," Joe commented, peeking around for something to heave into as it seemed imminent. He moaned.

"And you do?" Cameron couldn't help reacting corresponding with their usual dynamic.

"Could you just leave me alone?" The businessman tried, placing a hand on his stomach as if that would help his queasiness.

"You heard my son," the elder Macmillan established from the doorframe, proving again that he had been there longer than it was beneficial for Cameron, "you're not wanted here." He advanced, "don't come back or I will have you removed by security."

"And you'll get them to do that just saying things on a voice with the right authority you mean? I haven't done anything that would warrant such action." The computer mastermind challenged.

"You need to remember that I am a family member and you are not. Legally, that's what counts." The grey haired man determined. Joe moaned, looking like he was going to say something, but decided to clamp his hand on his mouth instead.

The girl bit her lip, hesitant, but surged forward helpfully, agitated, when Joe actually lastly threw up. But his father however was already propping him up. "Get us a nurse on your way out," he ordered worriedly.

"Yes, yes, okay," Cameron finally backpedalled. Joe undeniably needed help and she may as well get it for him if he didn't want her to be around.

Tbc


	5. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Chapter 5: Girls Just Want to Have Fun

Business was not going to wait, Joe knew that, so Joe Macmillan Sr. had no doubts he could leave when he arranged his son's transfer from Forest Park Medical Center to a more prestigious private hospital in the area, ensuring him a care package complete with round the clock lab service and surveillance, psychiatrist, physical therapist, gourmet meals, a private room and a direct line to his old doctor from back home. It was what would happen after Joe seemed well enough to leave the hospital that worried him more. It wasn't however a package that would stop any visitors from strolling in.

"Let's go."

Joe looked up from his potatoes boulangere, examining the girl dressed in army slacks and a matching colours t shirt. "What?" He grimaced.

"Not California. Everybody is in California, but that doesn't mean we have to be. I'm thinking something remote, like middle of city camouflage remote. Pittsburgh, Chicago perhaps. They both have first-rate university computer courses I wanted to take so we can scout there. Yo-yo and Lev of course are coming once we settle and I can still work with Donna long distance. Very soon, every PC will be connected anyway. That's what I'm working on, the process of impressing data to be transmitted on the carrier and improving spectral efficiency."

"It will be brilliant. Excellence always sells." Joe commented flatly, putting his cutlery down.

"You think so?" Cameron smiled, grasping at his willingness to talk to her.

"I haven't lost my sense of excellence yet," the salesman sighed.

"So are you in well enough shape? I've sold an audio-video software to Apple, I've got the money to go right now. We can pack your stuff on the way." The girl ventured, eyes sparkling with impulsiveness.

Joe turned his head towards the window, "you can go or don't go, just keep your Mutiny as it is. You don't need me."

"But of course I need you. I need someone to open up the channels, seek out potential buyers, code-monkeys and partners so I can just concentrate on writing."

"You don't need me," Joe reiterated impassively.

"Alright, I don't need you. How about I want you? I want you with me." Cameron repeated those words he had said to her at COMDEX when she left him.

Joe risked a look at her, he wanted to believe what she had said. But it was too good to be true, was it not? "I don't want your pity party. It's just another form of insult, don't you think?"

Cameron sighed, then sat on his bed next to him, "remember when you held my hand in the elevator and we thought it's the two of us against the world? Nothing has changed since then in reality. I was angry, then I calmed down and understood what had to be done. It took me a long time, but I don't blame you for it. It's still us against the world," she encouraged, reaching out. "I haven't been able to write anything while you were lying there half dead, not knowing whether you will make it. Not one sequence of code. I don't know what I would've done if we've lost you."

"You would've started writing again. Maybe not right away, but soon," Joe imparted.

"Yes, sure, but it would've killed me inside!" The girl insisted.

"The guilt? Cameron, I won't deny that I felt trampled on at your porch but you shouldn't think that's what led me here. It's this whole thing, my life," he waved dismissively.

"Your life is not that bad! I wish I could write a driver to reprogram your brain." This time she ventured further in reaching out, touching the side of his face warmly and frowned. "But I can't do that. What I can do is this," she leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cheek, his wet eyelashes, his nose, his lips.

Joe reacted hesitantly, chin tilted upwards slightly for a better access for her. "Cameron." He insisted, faltering.

"I can't lose you," she whispered, voice catching, looking him in the eyes and he was startled to discover that hers were just as wet as his. It had thrown him, Joe lost all train of thought. She moved to kiss his tears off and embraced him, only letting her own tears fall when he started to hug her back. She sighed, all that emotion needed a release.

He pulled her onto him, up and into his lap, tray pushed out the way and onto the floor. It hurt his arms to do so, but he couldn't care less. It was softly that he kissed her, lips sliding on each other's yearningly and desirous. His lips moved down, onto her neck and his hand under her t shirt, she fumbled with that pyjama top he had on, eager to get her fingertips on those scars. The way they were grating on her tactile senses was so sensual and they meant him, only him. Thirst fuelled her as she handled all the buttons with extra speed, but it didn't stop there. She wanted him, all of him, "I've missed you so much..all this time.."

"No other partner like me, huh?" He grinned and she smiled back, exultant to see a glimpse of the old Joe, that conceited bastard. Glad that pyjama trousers had no buttons or zip, she reached under his buttocks to lift him up as well as she straightened up to pull his bottoms down, erection kindled, but not quite ready yet. Cameron smiled at it before she grabbed. This was his day for once, not hers. She didn't come to him to get inspired, to get pleasured, to fill a need and stimulate her brain cells. With an impish smirk, she wiggled down on his legs and lowered her head to take a sensuous lick at his member as if it would've been an ice cream cone, then took the tip of his cock between her teeth delicately, all the while licking the soft parting line in the middle, and squeezed lightly and gently.

"What. Are you doing," Joe panted, throwing his head back. "This is good." He licked his own lips in pleasure. His cock twitched, straightening.

She moved to the underside, trailing her tongue down in the middle, then took him into her mouth sideways for a little bite while her hands fondled his balls and cupped and rubbed. It didn't taste like anything and yet it tasted amazing. Happy with the visual result of his hot and stiff and yummy looking cock, she moved up on him again, kissing his navel and his scars and nipples, trailed lazy lips over his collarbone and neck temptingly, only to notice his sweaty brow and pained expression and his arms lying prone out the way at his sides. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you? It's too early?" She asked, concerned.

"No, I want you," he peeked down at his erection, "we both want you. But..you might need to do all the work here?" He probed. It wasn't like him not to haul her up a wall and fuck her senseless with his sheer strength.

"I don't want to hurt you," she established, halting, her fingers tangling in his messy hair possessively. He leant forward, burying his face in her shoulder, pressing to her, breathing her in. His arms moved slowly and uncomfortably, but they wanted to take her, the same way as he wanted to make her his and cling to her, for air, for belonging, for love. It was a bittersweet joy he wasn't sure he could take. She was showing the stars to him again, but will she let him fall? Joe being Joe, it was a risk he was always willing to take. His next kiss was of desperation, of abandon and hunger, a request for a promise and love, the carnal and lust be damned. Without her, he had stopped functioning in the past, he would self destruct, halt and catch fire if it happened again, however pathetic that may be.

Sensing his need, Cameron caressed his head, his cheeks, looking at his with wide, empathetic eyes. Slowly, she raised herself up again and sat on his penis, moving slowly, carefully, affectionately as she held on to the back of his neck. Her other hand touched his chest, slid over his scars, fingered, stroked and caressed. Their movements never sped up, there was none of their usual hastiness and agitation. Their breaths deepened, her grasping fingers clutched a little harder, her pressing, grinding to him rose in intensity, but they remained staring into each other's eyes, discovering those naked souls they've both exposed. Cameron needed him. She needed him to ignite her and then extinguish the crazy flames if necessary, to keep her grounded, to keep her sane. It was that knowledge that clouded his mind as he spilled into her, not his physical senses. "Sorry, no condoms," he winced, "I wasn't expecting any sexual activities around here," he laughed.

"What is this supposed to mean!" Joe Macmillan Sr. stood in the doorway again, wishing to unsee what he had just seen.

Tbc


	6. Whatever I Do Wherever I Go

Chapter 6: Whatever I Do Wherever I Go

It wasn't Joe Macmillan Sr.'s job to go to COMDEX. They have technically sent salesmen to the show, it was after all a convention where all levels of manufacturers and developers of computers, peripherals, software, components, and accessories came in direct contact with retailers, consultants and their competitors, but IBM was too big of a fish to largely benefit from such a gathering as their main customers shared larger markets with contracts that were drawn up in conference rooms and private assemblies. They mainly showed up to see what the competition was up to.

But this year, this year he had to go, he had decided the moment his SVP of Sales, Dale Butler, who had spied on Joe for him before, told him just a few hours before opening that the Symbolics Computer Company, a small Massachusetts computer manufacturer will miss the gathering because the modulator-demodulator designer firm Mutiny has successfully traded for their space. Elder Joe was on a plane half an hour later, intending not to miss at least the end of the presentation as it would be the first time he would have the chance to see his son ever since that awkward afternoon at the hospital when he walked out hand in hand with that woman who had him wrapped around her fingers, that mastermind who was still slashing chucks out of their profit margins with The Giant even though neither her or Joe was working for Cardiff anymore. He would stay in the back, but he had to know, he had to see with his own eyes how they were, what that creative dynamic was his son could not part with and most of all, to see if Joe was alright.

As he was informed of the new participants of the convention too late, it was well into the demonstration he had arrived at. They were already at the questions, Joe's clear and assertive voice could be heard well in the back, his tall stature making him stand out in the crowd, but something pushed the older man forwards to investigate, to see the whole picture. "How can you claim you reach 2400 bits per second if most other systems only guarantee 1200 bits?" Someone in the crowd demanded.

"Phase shift keying," Joe answered, "we change the phase of a reference signal. Two tones for any one side of the connection are sent at similar frequencies as in the 300 bit/s systems, but slightly out of phase."

"That's what 1200 bit modems do," the same man argued.

"The bit rate increases were achieved by defining 4 or 8 distinct symbols, which allowed the encoding of 2 or 3 bits per symbol instead of only 1." The presentator gave the answer, "and we have our own, separate bulletin board system, dedicated solely to file downloads." Cameron or Donna Clark who elder Joe met at the hospital before, was nowhere to be seen. Two other guys stood at the Mutiny booth, a heavy, corpulent one with a beard and a young, spectacled one.

"I hope you have pornographic images," somebody shouted in from the back, making the congregation laugh.

"You can find out everything in our magazine," Joe lifted a colourful looking publication with some dragons and a new version of the centipede game printed on the top. "Including instructions and file transfer options. Lev, hand those out," he instructed one of his guys while he set the item down, looking distracted.

"How do you rule out too much interference at that speed?" A young man in jeans asked at the front.

"We only work with companies who ensure improvements in phone line quality." Joe replied, rather curtly. He seemed nervous, ambling up and down with his hands on his hips.

"What is your speed for sending commands back to the servers?" A suited man inquired.

"Oh Yo-Yo will answer that," Joe pushed his overweight colleague to the front. He himself strode purposefully to the side. For one moment, the older Macmillan thought his son was heading for him, but then he saw Donna Clark making her way through the crowd and past him. Elder Joe was only two people further from them when his son grabbed the woman by the shoulders, "what's going on?" He demanded.

"She's six centimetres dilated. She wants you," Donna pressed.

"Now?" Joe grimaced.

"Now for god's sakes Joe, it's not a thing like where she can wait!" The redhead insisted.

"Cameron will not be happy if I'm not getting her a good deal with possible hosts."

"Just for your information, she's swearing the place down for you," Donna rolled her eyes, "I will keep the front. Go!" She literally pushed him out to the circle of people standing around. After one glance back at Yo-yo, in the middle of explaining ANSI-based color menus rather dissociatedly to some inexperienced user, with a not exactly animated sales approach, Joe halted only to decide it was better to go nonetheless. He pushed his way past the multitude, being too busy with his thoughts to notice his father.

"A grandchild…" Joe Macmillan Sr. whispered, smiling. He thought he would never live to that day, not even when his son accepted the possibility of hetero relationships. Cameron wasn't exactly a mother candidate, but perhaps she was too busy writing machine code to notice?

Tbc


	7. Something's Gotten Hold of My HEart

Chapter 7: Something's Gotten Hold Of My Heart

To his credit, grandfather Joe couldn't say he didn't try. His relationship with his son has never been good, but it wasn't like it was all his fault. He loved Joe, he always did. Of course he has worked a lot away when his kid was little, or any age in fact, he never expected anything less than quality and merit from his offspring either and he could never replace a mother who wasn't in fact one that was good at it when she had been around, but all in all he thought he had done the best he could with a traumatised boy who insisted on proving himself and not taking the world he was offered on a plate. It had been a worrisome time when the executive lost trace of Joe and a right rollercoaster ride ever since. His home and wallet was always open for whenever his missing son would return, but as time went on, the old man had to come to terms with the fact that his offspring probably never will.

He kept tabs on him and his family of course, gathering every bit of information there was about them professionally, of the innovations of Mutiny, their interests, their deals with Cardiff and their friends the Clarks and any personal information that would also seep through the cracks of channels normally used for industrial espionage. But he wasn't interested in products, he was interested in his granddaughter, Augusta (nicknamed Ada just like her famous namesake) Chara (was that really after a constellation?) Macmillan.

With her birthdays he had no problems, he knew exactly when it was. Cameron and Joe were never at home during COMDEX and therefore the granddad could freely travel down to Texas where the pair finally settled and personally leave little Ada's presents on the porch, for the fourth year now in a row. Christmas however was another matter, he had to be really careful at Christmas so nobody noticed him. It has become a little tradition for him however, so he didn't want to delegate the role or use the post. It was something special to do on his own Christmas day without a family. Just because he didn't see eye to eye with his son, it didn't mean he didn't want any part of their lives, or did he get too soft in his later years?

The house wasn't big, nothing like the estates Joe had been used to growing up in and smaller than they could surely afford by now as well, but it was perhaps because the Clarks bought in that area too that they had settled in the sleepy suburb. At least it was clean, orderly and well kept, surely not thanks to the lady of the house of course, bar for the jumble of assorted toys lying about in the sandpit in the yard.

The benevolent gifter regarded the pile of boxes he had in the hire car. Maybe he had overdone it that year, but it was his only grandchild it was about after all. He did not want to give her anything to do with computers as he was sure she'd inevitably get that at home and majored instead on Care Bears, Pogo Balls, Singing Mermaids and the such he was advised to buy by a fellow grandparent, a business partner's wife he had become friendly with over the years.

These items were rather large and he was sure he would have to make more than one trip from his car to a couple blocks down at the other side of the road as he didn't dare to stop any closer. Driving by previously, he had established that the lights didn't seem to be on in the front rooms and he saw no movement there, so he started the logistics of his mission, imagining a little girl's smile when she opened the presents from her papa. At least he hoped they've kept the gift tags. He was on his second and last round placing the items on the mat when without warning the light went on outside on the porch and the front door opened, revealing Cameron in a long t shirt that reached her thighs and probably served as a nightie. "I was expecting a shipment.." She frowned, tilting her head at him, "but that's obviously not the kind of delivery I was implying."

"On Christmas Day?" The grey haired man wondered.

"Oh yeah, some guys I know deliver microprocessors any day," she waved dismissively, regarding the impassable pile on her doorstep and the other objects still in his hands, "aren't you gonna bring those in?" Cameron spoke casually as if they would've talked just yesterday.

"Of course," the executive nodded with poise as if that would've always been the plan.

Cameron cleared the path and stepped backwards to let the older in. "The silly blue Fluppy Dog Ada got for her birthday, she doesn't part with it. Not at night, not when we go somewhere. Fluppy has to come," she offered.

"I'm glad she likes it that much. Is Joe here?" His father couldn't help but ask. It would've been too good to be true, regardless of the later outcome.

"Yes," she affirmed, not waiting for the visitor to catch up with her as she darted through the open arches of the hallway into the living room. "Guess what Ada, more presents!" She handed the wrapped boxes to the child sitting on her father's lap, who was lounging laid-back on the couch in the most casual wear he would ever have on, blue jeans and a salmon Christmas t-shirt with cute little reindeers that the child was poking at as if was made for her entertainment, which it probably was. "But it's after dinner you open them cause we're late as it is!"

"Ah, those presents." Joe sat up a little, becoming a bit tense. By now they had expected the arrivals, every Christmas and on Ada's birthday and he felt a little irritated by them. He would never deny his daughter anything, but they reminded him of a past he preferred not to think about, a childhood and adolescence he could otherwise delete from his brain on a daily basis.

"Can I open just one?" The little girl slid off the long legs of her dad, the only one from the family dressed for the occasion in a red and blue velvet dress with big, droopy earrings that were in fashion for little children.

"Would you like one of those or one of these?" Her grandfather stepped into view from behind Cameron and into the room and offered the boxes in his arms too. He was amazed to find that apart from the colour of her hair, the little one looked a lot more like Joe than Cameron.

Her reaction was immediate, but not one the guest felt comfortable with. The little girl halted, smile drooping and backtracked into her father's arms. "I'm sorry, she's just very shy with strangers," Joe offered somewhat apologetically. He didn't expect the visitor, but he would take it in stride.

"You know we told you it was your papa who gave you Fluppy? This is your papa," Cameron came leaning down to the child's level to explain.

Ada peeked out from behind her father's protective arms curiously, but didn't dare a move out. "The green one," she directed her dad.

Joe fished the parcel out from the pile on the table and gave it to her. "Sit down," he blinked at his own dad. "Would you like something to drink?" He settled for pleasantries. "Though bourbon we don't have."

"We have eggnog, beer, purple rain, wine and vodka I think," Cameron garbled helpfully.

"Thank you, but I better not, I'm driving," the older Joe declined.

"You're driving, not the driver?" Joe marvelled.

"It may come as a surprise to you, but I can serve myself if needs be," his father held.

"Well, in that case, I dunno what," Cameron intercepted, not liking the tension in the room, "cause dinner, I don't do dinner, unless it's microwave," she declared, "which reminds me, we gotta get ready to go to Gordon's!"

"I wouldn't want to keep you," the older man stood.

Cameron waved him down, "we both gotta get ready. You could watch Ada for a few minutes couldn't you? Make sure she doesn't steal any more candy cause she tends to get sick in the car." She organised. She was a little different than he had remembered her but it looked like she had taken parenthood on and that was something positive. "Come on Joe," she urged her man.

"But Ada doesn't stay with people she doesn't know," Joe frowned suspiciously. What was Cameron playing at?

"I'm gonna start then," she turned on her heels, decided, leaving the two uneasy Joes alone.

"Do you like it?" Elder Joe broke the silence, addressing the child holding the My Little Pony she had unwrapped.

Ada didn't grant him an answer, but stroked the violet animal's tail affectionately. "She will get used to you and start talking," Joe excused her once more, giving her the Etch-a-Sketch she pointed at.

"That is if I'm tolerated around her otherwise," his high status father said sceptically, noting with some dejection that Ada had dropped the pony and started scribbling on the pad fervidly.

"What do you want?" Joe asked irritatedly, "we both know I will never be the son you wanted. As for Ada, I never wish it on her to be measured by your standards."

His father shook his head, "why do you see me so bleak? I never wanted but what was best for you."

"Correction. What you deemed was best for me," the younger man argued.

"You don't need to worry about that with Ada. Let's be honest, it's not like I'll ever have any say over her upbringing," the senior watched curiously as the little girl broke free from Joe and paddled over to him just then to hand him her writing pad. He had to do a double take at seeing proper words instead of doodles. It looked like, Repeat Repeat Repeat

YN := Readkey ;

If YN = 'y' then Halt;

If YN = 'n' then Writeln;

Delay(20800);

Until (YN = 'y') OR (YN = 'n');

End. "Is this..Pascal?" He ventured, bewildered.

Joe peeked over and chuckled, "so it is. She must not rate you high if she's not trying to communicate with you in C++," he waved airily, "it's just that most of the strangers who come to this house would and she doesn't talk to strangers. With outspoken words, that is," he clarified.

"You're joking, right? She's four and a half years old!" The senior was shocked.

"She could always give instructions to a computer before she could talk," Joe prided in her. She was the most amazing creation he could ever make after all.

The girl in question pushed the pad in his grandfather's face this time, somewhat impulsive. "Oh, sorry," Joe peeked over again, "she probably wants to play Super Mario with you, it's her latest obsession." He chuckled again, "she gave you three chances to change your mind, each with more than twenty seconds thinking time. Just write Y or N. Not everyone reads code Ada," he tried to convince the child to behave normally. Salesmen didn't normally read them either, but having lived with Cameron for years, he was an exception.

His father gladly drew a Y and was immediately pulled by little hands towards the back, where a Cardiff Giant, but a clearly modified one, sat. "I guess I can leave you two to get ready then myself." Joe took the rare opportunity where he was at home but wasn't sat on by a mischievous little child. Ada liked his old man, so maybe it wasn't so bad?

The End.


End file.
